


Glimpse

by EmpyrealElysium



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Burning, But they're also cray-cray, Hallucinations, Other, Pyro is cute, Pyroland, Pyromania, Reader is a mercenary, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Schizophrenia, They chase you around, this is disturbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpyrealElysium/pseuds/EmpyrealElysium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pyro loves prettying you up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glimpse

The war grounds blared with gunshots being exchanged between the opposing teams, drowning out the agonized cries of fallen mercenaries. Lives were repeatedly taken by an enemy’s hand and returned by Respawn until a team snatches the rival’s intelligence.

 

You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, but not for the purpose of racing the others to the intel.

 

Making a sharp turn behind a weathered shack, you were faced by the hulking form of the enemy soldier. From the swift way he darted his eyes to you, it was obvious your appearance was unexpected. He made a move of aiming his launcher at you, yet you were quick to take your gun from your holster and shoot the buffoon in the head. His weapon fell beside his decapitated body that steadily leaked crimson from its shredded neck. As you fled off the scene, Soldier’s body vanished, reclaimed by Respawn for the umpteenth time of the day.

 

 

* * *

  
A pair of scorched boots stepped on the warm spot where Soldier’s corpse had laid. Dark goggles stared at the light tracks you left. An unintelligible phrase rumbled through the masked figure’s mouthpiece as they tightened their grip on their flamethrower. Before your shoe prints completely disappeared from the bloody soil, the enemy Pyro darted forward, in the direction of your trail.

 

* * *

 

Encountering goons from the rival team was inevitable under the circumstances, yet you were quick to dispatch them using your weapons. There were times when luck was at your side: when a sentry was nearby and instantly terminated the enemy Scout that hindered you from going any further, or when your own Sniper was hiding within the perimeter and shot the Spy disguised as your Medic.

 

Luck.

 

Well, that’s just laughable.

 

How can you consider yourself lucky when the enemy Pyro, the unfathomable _hellspawn_ of a class, was hot on your trail?

 

You were clueless about how _its_ relentless pursuit of you began, but you were certain on how the chase always ended. The thought of the pyromaniac’s flames scorching your skin and eating at your flesh and bones as you die in unadulterated agony made you shiver. Experiencing the torturous death over and over again made you nauseous. The danger of falling victim to the monster’s flames once more caused a pathetic sob to bubble out of your mouth.

 

These days, the war was no longer a priority. The battlefield only became a ground of hide-and-seek between you and the insane arsonist.

 

Lost in your jarring thoughts, you failed to notice where you were headed to and found yourself in front of the junction of two, high-rising platforms. The heels of your footwear scuffed the ground as you halted in your tracks. You looked around to see that the platforms stretched wide, blocking any path, and the only option was to turn around and head into another direction.

 

You spun around, and every nerve ending in your body froze at the manifestation of your horrors standing meters away from you.

 

_No._

 

Pyro bore its gaze at your astonished features through dark optics as it stalked towards you. Its steps were deliberately slow, the crunching dirt under its boots a deafening scratch in your ears. Its hands tightened their grip around the homemade flamethrower, and with how the creature tilted its head at you, scrutinizing your trembling form, it was likely planning your demise.

 

Your shaking hand shot out to your gun and aimed it at the approaching mercenary. At your apparent hostility, Pyro paused.

 

“Stay back,” you snarled. No matter how much you wanted to appear unafraid, your shaking hands and the pellets of sweat that beaded your skin screamed otherwise. “I won’t hesitate to shoot.” You cocked your gun to prove your point.

 

Pyro remained inhumanly stoic. Its inhuman stillness, the voidness of its stare and the dark shadows that crossed its features channeled out a sense of foreboding. Memories of being at the end of its flamethrower made your knees tremble. You unwittingly stepped back, and gasped when the depressed junction of the two elevated platforms pressed against you.

 

At the contact, you unwittingly pulled the trigger. The bullet missed by an inch away from its head.

 

“Shit!”

 

Pyro barely flinched.

 

Your vehemence deserted you when the thing resumed advancing towards you. The gun in your grasp quavered with the fear of imminent death plaguing your mind and sent tremors throughout your body. Your pulled the trigger once more.

 

_Click._

 

“No!”

 

_Click._

_Click. Click. Click._

 

“No, no, no, no, no! Not now — fuck!” Your finger abused the trigger as the gun failed to shoot bullets again and again. Of all the times to lose ammo, why did it have to be now? You felt so fucking stupid for wasting your bullets on the enemy mercs you had encountered and not save up for the psycho who took delight in seeing you burn. If only you let that Soldier kill you when he had the chance. But no, you just had to fucking shoot him, didn’t you?

 

And then what? Respawn and start the wild goose chase between you and Pyro with the inevitability of the poor old goose roasting in the fire?

 

Pyro raised its weapon and aimed at you. Your arms fell limp at your sides. The gun dangled from your weary hands and fell to the ground in a silent thud. Your knees buckled and your body slacked against towering platforms. Every ounce of your attention shifted to the creature’s movement.

 

It was going to happen again.

 

The dark mouth of Pyro’s flamethrower gaped at your aghast and weary features. Your eyes, burning with brimming tears, darted to the maniac’s arcane gaze. As the first particles of fire shot out of Pyro’s weapon, a single question grated through your lips,

 

_“Why?”_

 

Before the first cry of agony escaped you, the fire swallowed you whole…

 

* * *

 

 

… And engulfed you in a dazzling explosion of sparkles.

 

Pyro roared in unabashed glee at the sight of you being bathed in a myriad of colors. The silky wisps of rainbow streaming out of the Rainblower glided over your skin before popping into several bits of colorful glitters around your body.

 

As the engine of the Rainblower continued to buzz in their hands, Pyro fondly watched you dance in the plethora of colors. They swayed the machine back and forth to spread the watery colors more and rain down on your jovial form. The hues spun themselves around your fingers, across your torso, around your hips and puddled at your feet. Your melodious laughter mingling with the Rainblower’s low hum caused Pyro’s heart to soar up the cotton-candy clouds and pink skies.

 

The first time the deranged pyromaniac saw you step into the pink and green candy fields that bustled with rainbows and confetti and balloons, their heart instantly shot up to Cloud Nine. Pyro still remembered the playful look you sent him before scampering off with sweet, sweet laughter dancing from your lips. The lyrical notes hung in the air like a silky trail that entered their ears, ensnaring Pyro in an unyielding attraction that pulled them to you.

 

Since then, the two of you began participating in this enjoyable game you play. While Pyro endeavored to color the world and paint a smile onto the face of each cherub they would encounter, the delirious arsonist always sought you out. They would watch you prance across the colorful fields and play with the jolly winged folks, your feet light as you skipped away. With every movement, every glance you threw at them, every note of your laughter, bade Pyro to chase you, and lavish you with all the affection their heart could muster.

 

What better way to do that than to make you the prettiest in Pyroland?

 

For the generous pyroman, anything could be prettied up with an abundance of colors.

 

And, oh, how they loved prettying you up, to see you glow in vivid shades of the rainbow and flare in a mass of sparkles.

 

Judging by your laughter that had raised in volume as Pyro used the Rainblower on you, they had a haunch you enjoyed it too.

 

Lost in their thoughts, Pyro eventually realized they may have used a bit too much of the Rainblower’s power, and shut the machine off. Although they took delight in lighting you up, their work was needed elsewhere.

 

Still alight with color and sparkling dust, your laughter gradually ebbed away as you sunk to the ground. Pyro sauntered their way towards your body, the color of dusk rising from your form and disappearing in the sweet-scented air. Your half-lidded eyes, reflected on the beads of tears lining your lower eyelashes, turned up to the dark visor of your playmate. The arsonist’s heart swelled at the sight of you—happy, content, innocent, lovely. And oh. So. _Perfect_.

 

Ensnared, Pyro reached out to touch your face. Their gaze lingered at the sight of their glove slowly immersing into the fibers of your hair. Their affectionate touches traveled down your face and cupped your cheek in a gentle hold. They watched as your eyes slowly slid shut, and your pretty lips move to say something. They awaited your voice, that fine melody that made their heart clench in loving pain.

 

_“Why?”_

 

Pyro flinched, confused. It was not the nature of the question that confounded him as much, but it was the way it grated against your throat. It did not sound like the sweet melody that sweetened the air when you played; it was like wood being scratched against sandpaper. Like a throat forever covered with soot, obstructing your voice.

 

Almost like theirs.

The Pyroman blinked, and when they opened their eyes, an animal-like cry, one that grated and scratched along their throat, erupted through their mask.

 

Your peaceful and beautiful form was not there. No, it was you: your body bright with burned cloth and skin, smoldering quietly in a horrifying picture of death. Your face was nearly indistinguishable, yet it did nothing to hide the patches of despair and agony that did not entirely burn away.

 

Pyro blinked once more, and when their eyes opened, the vision was gone.

 

And so was your body.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a fanfic I saw on DA. It takes another look on Pyro's mind. The idea was so interesting that I just wanted to have my take on it. 
> 
> Oh, and some details may not be accurate. I don't play TF2, but I am familiar with its lore. 
> 
> If there are any mistakes, please don't hesitate to correct me.


End file.
